Of Heroes and Horses
by rynogeny
Summary: AU, EomerOC. Sequel to Heart of the Horselord and E is for Eomer. Eomer and Lisswyn navigate family issues.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This will probably not make much sense unless you've read Heart of the Horselord and its two sequels, (all posted on this site.)

* * *

Lisswyn sat staring glumly out the window of her and Eomer's sitting room. It was mid-afternoon, and as always, there was much to do, but she felt entitled to a short break. Her time of the month had started, and beyond the usual weakness, there was discouragement. A tear slid down her cheek, and she impatiently brushed it away. Many women reported feeling weepy a week or so before the actual cycle rather than once it started – but they weren't queens, expected to bear an heir as soon as possible. Or sooner than that, even.

She was scowling down at her stomach when the door opened and Eomer entered, his expression concerned. "Tille said she thought I'd find you here. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She stood, walked over to lean against his chest. "My body has just informed me that I'm not yet carrying your heir, my lord," she said with a sigh.

"Ah." He brought his arms up, pulled her close, and Lisswyn rubbed her cheek against him. She felt him press a kiss onto her hair, then rest his chin on her head for a moment before pulling away slightly, and tilting her face up to his. "I've told you that my parents had been wed for nearly two years before I was born," he said gently. "Such is true for many couples. Our people are eager for an heir – as is their king," he added with some amusement. "But no one but you is particularly alarmed that you've not yet conceived, not after just five months of marriage."

"I know. I just feel like I won't really be accepted as queen until I've performed this particular duty," she said a bit dryly.

He grinned at her tone. "That's not true, and you know it. But as soon as your monthly time is past, we'll keep trying." He kissed her, let it linger for a moment in promise, then said, "in the meantime, I wonder if you'd find Brynwyn and bring her to the stables."

He was obviously excited, and it was hard to stay discouraged in the face of it. "It's time?"

"The saddle I had made has just arrived. It would have been cruel to introduce her to her pony, but not let her ride." His grin was a bit mischievous now.

"Actually, it would most likely have resulted in her trying to figure out how to use your saddle – sized for Firefoot – on the pony," she responded wryly.

He chuckled, and with a final light kiss, started toward the door. "You're probably right. I'll see you in the stables."

She found her sister in the kitchen, helping Liffild. The other woman was chopping vegetables while Brynwyn played with Liffild's six month old son. The sight of the baby brought another pang, but she pushed it aside. Eomer was right, and patience was in order. In the meanwhile, her sister was about to be a very happy little girl.

She smiled when they looked up, and held out her sister's cloak she'd stopped to collect. "Brynwyn, the king wishes to see you in the stables."

The little girl's eyes widened with delight. "Maybe he's going to take me for a ride on Firefoot!"

Despite her obvious excitement – it was undecided as to whether she loved Eomer or his horse more – she leaned over and gently kissed the baby on the forehead before turning to run to Lisswyn. As she pulled the cloak on, Lisswyn exchanged a smile with Liffild, then took Brynwyn's hand as they started out, her sister still chattering.

It was warmer out than she'd realized, a beautiful April afternoon. Maybe the cloak hadn't been necessary after all, she mused. They entered the stables, and Brynwyn pulled away from her to go to Firefoot's stall, obviously a bit puzzled that Eomer wasn't there. The big warhorse stuck his head over his stall and whuffed at her, though, making her laugh.

Then Eomer spoke from the other end of the stables, loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough not to startle the animals. "Brynwyn."

They turned, and started toward him, with Brynwyn giving Firefoot a puzzled glance over her shoulder before running the rest of the way to Eomer. He caught her up in his arms and hugged her, and, as always, his obvious love for her sister touched Lisswyn.

"Are we going for a ride?" Brynwyn asked.

"You are," Eomer's tone was teasing as he opened a stall door, then set her down inside it. Lisswyn peeked over the door, and saw a gray pony.

It turned its head and smelled Brynwyn, who was looking up at Eomer with an expression of astonishment. "It's little."

"Just your size."

"It's _mine_?" her voice rose in excitement, and the pony's ears twitched.

"Yours. It's time you learned to ride on your own." He took the bridle and began to lead the animal out of the stall. "For now, though, you must only ride her when someone is with you. Do you understand?"

"It's a girl? What's her name?"

"Brynwyn." His voice was firm. "Do you understand that you must not attempt to ride her unless an adult is with you?"

"Yes, sire," she said.

She now sounded a bit subdued, and Eomer reached over, lifted her chin. "She's yours, and I want you to enjoy getting to know her and learning to ride her. But I want both of you safe, too. Her name is Star," he said, finally answering her question.

Lisswyn gave a soft snort at the unimaginative name, and he looked up, grimaced. "I didn't name her," he muttered.

"Star." Brynwyn spoke to the pony, who nudged her shoulder, making the little girl giggle. "When can I ride her?"

"Now, but in the paddock."

Lisswyn followed them out, watched her sister's first riding lesson. It brought back memories of her father teaching her to ride, and she grinned.

Then she saw Andric standing off to the side, a dejected look on his face, and her own smile faltered. Eoden was helping with the lesson – why wasn't Andric? He tended to be even more protective of Brynwyn than his older brother.

She walked over to lean against the fence next to him. He hunched his shoulders in response, his scowl deepening.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't reply, just stared at the scene in the paddock, unhappiness radiating off him. After a moment, though, she realized he was more focused on the pony than the people, and she let out a slow breath. What was she to say? He was too old for a pony, but probably wasn't ready for a horse of his own.

She started to speak, to offer some sort of comfort. "Someday—"

"Mounts are for heroes and girls. I've got chores." His tone was flat and bitter, and he barely glanced at her before turning to walk around the paddock back towards the stables, his head down, no longer looking at the scene in the paddock.

But in his eyes, beyond the bitterness and anger, she'd seen loneliness and despair, and it wrenched at her.

Heroes. Eomer had given Eoden Fleetfoot, the horse the boy had ridden wildly across the plains of the Mark in a desperate effort to reach Eomer and his riders before orcs attacked Edoras. So grateful were the people for Eoden's action, no one had ever remarked on the extravagance of the gesture, despite Fleetfoot having been sired by Eomer's own stallion. And she'd never heard even any hint of Eoden bragging about it – indeed, she'd seen him allowing other boys to ride the horse. Those that could, at least.

And that certainly included his brother, as the boys were close. But apparently seeing Brynwyn with a pony had brought Andric's resentment out. And why not? Had Eomer ever told the boy when he might expect such an honor? If so, he'd not mentioned it to her.

Part of the problem might be the boys' position in Edoras, she admitted. They worked in the stables, where they were overseen by Breghelm, the stable master who'd helped raise Eomer when he'd come as an orphan to Edoras. They'd even chosen to sleep there, in the rooms above the stables where the other lads had their beds.

But they ate each evening at the king's table, and spent some part of the time before bed with her, Eomer and Brynwyn in their sitting room. She'd insisted on that, had needed that. They were as much her family as Brynwyn was, and Eomer had accepted them as such – would probably have done so even if he hadn't made a promise to their mother to see them cared for as she lay dying.

She knew her friend well, and knew it would never have occurred to Maegwen that by 'care for them' Eomer had meant to raise them himself, but such was the man he was. There were differences between their situation and the one he'd found himself in as an orphan at Edoras, of course, starting with the fact that he had been of royal blood. But she suspected Eomer saw more the similarities than those differences.

And none of that answered the question of what to do about Andric. He'd always been the quieter of the boys, and while she knew Eomer cared about him, he tended to talk more to Eoden in the evenings, possibly because Eoden talked first.

But perhaps there was more to it than that. Eoden had been closer to his father and older brothers, and had been the most wounded when none of them had come home from the war. But as the youngest, Andric had been closer to Maegwen, and had been more directly hurt by her death.

Maybe that meant he somehow needed Lisswyn more than he needed Eomer, but if so, she didn't know what to do or how to help him. She wasn't Maegwen, would never be, and it seemed a different a matter for Eomer to be like a father to them than for her to try to mother nearly grown boys, however much she might want to. If the war hadn't happened, if the village hadn't been destroyed, they both were of an age to have been apprenticed by now.

Full of dismay, she leaned against the fence. Maybe it was just as well that she wasn't yet with child. Apparently there was a lot she yet needed to learn about rearing children.

"Lisswyn! Look! I'm riding!" Brynwyn's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she looked over at her sister. She was indeed riding, being led around the paddock by Eoden while Eomer walked beside her.

She smiled in response. "You are, indeed." She'd have to have some riding trousers made for her. Hitching up her skirt, which had sort of worked today due to its fullness, wouldn't work with many of her other skirts.

Lisswyn watched until Eomer decided the ride was over. Brynwyn didn't complain as much as she might have, allowing them to lead her back into the stables. A few minutes later, she bounded out and ran to Lisswyn, still grinning.

"Eomer-King says I can ride tomorrow. If he's not free to give me lessons, he says Breghelm will, and that one of them will do so everyday it doesn't rain." The words all ran together in her excitement. Then she frowned. "But will Firefoot miss our rides?"

Eomer stepped up behind her. "No, because we'll still go for rides together occasionally," he said with a twinkle in his eye. Lisswyn had long suspected he enjoyed their wild rides around the outside of the city walls as much as Brynwyn did. "But now," he continued, "you had better go wash your hands and tell Tille and Hilde about Star."

She nodded, then looked at Lisswyn.

"I'll be up in a few minutes. I need to talk to the king."

The little girl nodded and ran off. "You'd think she'd be tired," Eomer marveled.

"She'll be excited for hours yet, but will probably fall asleep early. You know she'll want to spend even more time at the stables now, don't you?"

"Breghelm will keep an eye out for her, and will let us know if she's underfoot too much. He says she reminds him of Eowyn – he has a soft spot for her."

"He's not the only one," Lisswyn said rather pointedly.

He smiled, and then it faded. "What happened? I looked over at one point and you looked sad. You're not still anxious about not having conceived?"

She shook her head, then told him what had happened with Andric, unsurprised by the look of dismay that came into his eyes.

"I'll talk to him. I meant to do so right after the battle, when I gave Fleetfoot to Eoden," he said tiredly. "Then rebuilding the city distracted me, and I forgot, and when I remembered, it didn't seem necessary. I've often seen him riding Fleetfoot. It was foolish of me not to realize he'd be wanting a horse of his own, and that he might misunderstand why he's now the only one of the three of them without one, particularly since he's tall enough to ride nearly any horse in the stable," he murmured. Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'll find him."

But he couldn't. It was nearly time for the evening meal before Eomer came to tell her that they'd searched all over for the boy, and had only just discovered that a guard remembered seeing him leaving the opened gates of the city. "He took his bedroll with him," he added grimly.

* * *

His temper had always been a problem, one that Eomer fought viciously to keep under control. He'd won that battle more often than not since Lisswyn had come into his life, as just her presence could help steady him. But not right now. Seeing her pale face and shattered eyes when he'd told her that Andric had run away… Fury at the boy for having put that look there was so entwined with his own fear that he couldn't begin to separate them. And really, he saw no reason to try. 

He was going to throttle Andric when he found him, immediately after he made sure he'd come to no harm and had straightened him out on the matter of the horse.

Eoden caught up with him at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm going with you."

Eomer jerked around. "You're what?"

Eoden swallowed. Backed up a step. "Sire. He's my brother."

"He is." He bit the words out. "And you're staying here." Seeing the frantic look in Eoden's eyes made it a bit easier to rein his temper in. "Did you see the expression on Lisswyn's face? She needs you right now more than Andric does. I'll find him. My men and I won't stop looking until we do. But I need you to stay here."

Some of the panic receded. "You'll find him." A statement of faith rather than a question, one Eomer didn't intend to fail.

"I will."

"I think I know where he may have gone." At Eomer's gesture, he continued, "he likes the hills. That area toward the mountains, just inside the tree line, where there's a stream coming down, near a waterfall. I think he might be planning to camp there."

Eomer felt his fear ease a little more. He knew the place, had camped there himself more than once. "I'm familiar with it. He won't have gone far, Eoden. He's on foot."

"Yes sir. I'll go back to Lisswyn and Brynwyn now." He hesitated.

Eomer nodded, watched him start up the stairs. "I'll find him," he repeated.

* * *

A/N 2: My apologies that it's taken so long to keep my promise in posting more follow-up stories to Heart of the Horselord. Part of that is due to having spent the past year working on a novel, and part of it is due to the fact that I knew what topic I wanted to address next (in their lives) but wasn't sure how to approach it.

This is complete in two chapters, both of which will be posted today. It does hint at additional stories still to come, but as with this one, while I know what the topic will be, I have to figure out exactly how things happen. I'll try not to take so long with the next one. :)

Also, I wanted to thank those of you who've continued to leave reviews for the other stories. Those comments, including requests for additional stories, did keep me thinking about these characters and what I might do with them. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

It was barely twilight when Eomer and his guard rode out. If they rode fast enough, they might make the hills before full dark fell. The moon, while not full, was out. That would help as well.

They rode in silence in the direction Eoden had spoken of, all the while watching for any signs of the boy. Though perhaps Eomer needed to stop thinking of them as boys. They seemed young to him, but Eoden was as nearly as old as he had been when he'd started training in earnest to join his first eored, and Andric only a year or so behind that.

"He'll be fine, Eomer." Eothain said when they paused to make sure they weren't going off course. "We've not seen any orcs near here since the battle last fall."

"It's not orcs I'm worried about. It's wild animals." Hungry animals, still recovering from winter.

"That's a concern," Eothain conceded, and seemed to be listening. It was quiet out, a nearly perfect spring evening. They began to move again, angling a bit left.

They were nearly to the darker line of trees at the base of the hills when Eothain sniffed. "Do you smell smoke?"

Eomer did, and stifled a sense of hope. It could be, and hopefully was, Andric. But it could be other travelers as well. Including ones not necessarily friendly to a boy.  
"I don't hear anything," he said after a moment. A group, regardless of purpose, probably wouldn't be quiet. "Let's leave the horses here," he said softly. "It will be easier to navigate the trees on foot."

Eothain nodded, and they dismounted. There was still a bit of light left. It would be darker in the trees, of course, but he thought they could go awhile without torches. If Andric was where he believed he was, Eomer could find it in full darkness.

Three of the men stayed with the horses, while the rest of them started through the trees, Eomer in the lead. He could sense Ethan's state of alertness, but the other man didn't protest Eomer going first. There'd been much less tension between the two of them in that respect since the trip to Helm's Deep.

They moved quietly, and then Eomer slowed, stopped, and motioned. Through the trees, they could see the flickering light of a fire. They crept forward until they were close enough to see that it was indeed Andric. He'd made his camp next to the stream and was sitting by his small fire, staring moodily into the flames.

"Wait here," he said softly. Eothain nodded, and Eomer quietly moved forward until he stood on the edge of the clearing.

He'd thought that his temper might spike again if and when he found Andric safe and uninjured, but now, staring at him in the dim light, he found that wasn't so. Looking at the discouraged slump of the boy's shoulders, he felt only pity, and a sense of failure.

And he had no idea what to do next, or what to say. He stepped forward, said quietly, "Andric."

He started, jerked around, stared at him, and in his eyes, Eomer saw honest shock. "Sire?"

Had the boy really not known Eomer would come after him? Had he thought himself so unimportant? Dismayed, Eomer went over, sat down next to him. On Andric's other side, the hill sloped up with the trees growing denser, and across the fire from them, the stream gurgled as it came down the hill.

Andric wasn't looking at him now, was instead staring into the fire as if the answers to a lifetime worth of questions might be found there, his shoulders hunched.

"Where are you headed?" Eomer asked casually. He reached for a stick to poke at the fire, more for something to do than anything else.

"The herds."

It made sense, and he again felt sorrow that he'd let the boy think so many things that weren't true. The sooner he explained himself, the better. "Do you know why I gave Fleetfoot to Eoden, and hadn't yet given you a mount?"

Andric gave an abrupt nod. "He's a hero. I'm not."

"No." At that, the boy looked at him, doubtful. "Well, yes," he corrected. "At least in respect to what Eoden did for Edoras. But you're a hero, too, Andric," he said gently. "You saved Lisswyn's life because you would not turn back from following her, even when she was taken by Hunlaf. That is just as heroic as riding after us when the orcs marched on the city. And both of you went out last fall amongst orcs and wargs in an attempt to save my life."

Andric looked back into the fire, and shrugged.

"So it is not because I don't view you as a hero that I've not yet given you a mount. There are several reasons, actually, but that's not part of it." The boy didn't look at him, but Eomer knew he was listening. "Some of it was timing. Fleetfoot was fully trained, and it was time for him to go to a rider. After seeing your brother's love for him, I couldn't give him to someone else."

"I'm not sorry you did, sire. I wouldn't want Eoden to not have Fleetfoot!" He was looking at Eomer now, anxiety in his eyes.

"I never thought you did."

Having clarified that, Andric resumed his study of the fire.

"Another reason I gave Eoden Fleetfoot is that I knew he'd begin training to join an eored in another year or so, and having a mount he was already well familiar with would help."

"And I'm not brave enough to be in an eored."

"No! That's not it." Where did the boy get these ideas?

"Eoden has the sword you gave him, and is training with it," he said matter of factly.

Eomer closed his eyes for a moment, registered yet another thing the boy had misunderstood. "Eoden will join an eored," he finally said. "And while I wish it weren't true, I believe he'll have to fight, as I think we're still a number of years away from complete peace. That doesn't mean you won't join an eored, or have to fight as well, however much I might regret that. But Eoden has a gift for the sword, for learning of war, and how to fight to protect the Riddermark. While you may have to fight as well, and are certainly courageous enough to do so, warfare is not your gift, Andric. Horses are."

At that, the boy finally looked at him, his eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"Breghelm says you're the best of anyone in the stables at calming agitated horses, and that training them seems to come easier for you than to most grown men, including himself."

Andric shrugged. "You just think about what's best for the horse."

"It's more than that. Breghelm says that you can frequently tell a horse's parentage just by looking at it, and can remember details of lineage even he has to look up. He has also told me that he thinks you could turn out to be the best trainer and breeder the Riddermark has seen in many years. We're going to need someone like that, Andric, as we rebuild the herds. We're going to need that just as much as we're still going to need warriors."

Plainly stunned, it took him a moment to respond. "Breghelm said that? About me?"

Eomer's lips twitched at Andric's shock. Breghelm was a good man, and as committed to the boys who worked for him as he was the horses. But he wasn't nearly as generous with his praise as he could be. "He did."

They fell silent, and then Andric looked at him again, appeared to struggle for a moment, then hunched his shoulders and stared at the fire again.

"That still doesn't answer the question of why I've not given you a horse, does it?" He sighed. "I made a mistake, Andric, one which hurt you. And I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?"

"My plan has been take you out to the herds a little later in the spring, and let you choose a young horse to train for your own, with Breghelm's help," he said simply.

The boy's head jerked around, his mouth moving soundlessly as he struggled to get sound out. "I get to choose? A horse? Of my own? Me?"

Eomer nodded, watched as Andric turned his head, tucked his face into his drawn up knees. He suspected the boy was fighting tears, and not wanting to embarrass him, he simply waited. When it seemed Andric had himself under control, he added, "I wanted it to be a surprise, and didn't stop to think how it would seem to you when I gave Brynwyn her pony. I'm sorry."

Andric merely nodded. He lifted his face, stared at the fire again, but now there was a half smile on his face, his expression dreamy.

Eomer cleared his throat. "There is something I'm going to require of you."

At that, Andric looked at him, the expression of wonder replaced with wariness. "Yes, sire?"

"One sign of being a man is the willingness to apologize to those you've injured," he said quietly.

It took a moment for the confusion to clear and be replaced by shame. "I'm sorry, sire."

"For what?" prompted Eomer.

"For leaving without saying anything. For not trusting you."

"You don't need to apologize for the latter, if I've not earned that trust, but I'll accept the apology for running away. But it is not only to me you owe such to."

"Lisswyn?"

"She's very hurt, and frantic with worry," he said. "And my men, back there in the trees, had every expectation of spending the evening quietly at home with their families." He watched the boy's shoulders droop, then added quietly, "and some of the joy in her pony vanished when Brynwyn realized you were gone. She thinks it's because of her." They were harsh words, he knew, because the boy loved the little girl. But nothing was ever gained by people not fully seeing the consequences of their actions.

They sat for a moment like that, then Eomer watched as Andric firmed his shoulders, then turned to him. "I am sorry, and will tell them all so, especially Brynwyn. And you do deserve my trust. It was me," he whispered. "I thought I had failed you."

"Let's leave it that if you do fail me, I'll tell you," Eomer said a bit dryly.

He watched as a grin played around Andric's mouth, then his eyes were caught upward. Reaching for his sword, he quietly said, "Do as I tell you, and start slowly scooting behind me. Do it now."

Most of his gaze focused on the feral eyes he could see on the hill above them, but part of him noted how quickly the boy moved to obey. Still slowly pulling Guthwine out of its sheath, Eomer shifted onto one knee, prepared to rise. A growl and a blur as the wolf leaped told him he was out of time.

He yanked his sword the rest of the way out and threw himself between the beast and boy, succeeded in knocking it to the ground. One chance was all he was going to have to roll far enough away that he could gain his feet and bring his sword back down before the wolf could launch itself again, but one chance was all he needed, and the wolf fell to the ground.

Crashing in the trees behind him told him Eothain and his guard were there. Wiping his sword, he turned and looked at the captain of his guard, dared the other man to express remorse for not having somehow prevented the attack.

Instead, Eothain looked down at the body of the wolf. "If you couldn't defend yourself against an ill, half-starved animal, you would be in dire straits, indeed."

Eomer grinned at Eothain's tone, then looked down. It was true. The wolf wasn't just thin from winter, but was obviously sick as well. No wonder the beast had attacked. He turned back to Andric. His eyes dark in a bone white face, he looked from the wolf, up the hill, then back to his fire before turning to Eomer.

"It can be dangerous in these hills, at any time," Eomer said matter of factly. "It may not be your gift the way it is your brother, but it's time for you to begin training in earnest with a sword, too."

Andric swallowed, and nodded.

"Put your fire out, then, and let's go home."

Andric nodded again, and moved to do as he was told. Eomer exchanged a glance with Eothain. His captain's face was now somber, and he knew they were both thinking about what would have happened if the wolf had attacked while Andric had been alone. Suppressing a shudder at the thought, Eomer watched the boy finish dousing the fire, then motioned for him to follow Eothain down the path through the trees, as he brought up the rear.

They came out where the horses were, and as Eomer went to Firefoot, began to untie him from the branch he was secured to, he noted Andric watching him, then looking around at the guards preparing to mount their own horses.

"If I walk, I'll slow everyone down."

"You're not going to walk." Eomer swung up into the saddle, held his hand down.

A look of wonder and astonishment crossed the boy's face, but instead of taking the hand, he said, "Wait." Then he walked over to where Eothain was preparing to mount his own horse. "Lord Eothain?"

"Yes, lad?"

"I'm sorry that you and your men had to come out this evening to look for me." He turned to take in the rest of the guard. "It was wrong of me to leave the way I did."

"Aye, it was at that," Eothain agreed. "But we all do things we regret at times. Let's ride for home, shall we?"

Andric nodded, and turned back to Eomer, grabbing the hand that Eomer once more held out and scrambling up behind him.

"Well done," Eomer said. "Now put your arms around my waist, and hold on. We're going to ride fast."

Andric pressed his face against the king's back, and tried not to laugh for sheer joy. He was riding with the king, on Firefoot.

And not as a child, the way Brynwyn did, tucked in front of the king, but as a man would, when sharing a horse. He tightened his arms. It wouldn't do to fall off.

Emotion moved through him. He was going to have a horse of his own! And not only that, he was going to be allowed to choose it! Everything inside him yearned at the thought of being allowed to work with a horse he'd never have to give up.

Breghelm had asked him once where he'd learned to train them. He hadn't known how to answer. He didn't think of it as training. You showed a horse what you wanted, and if you were kind, and firm, the horse obeyed you.

He shook his head, grinned. He was going to have an opportunity to form a relationship with a horse almost right from the beginning. It was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to him, he decided.

And that wasn't all. The king of the Riddermark had saved his life. One moment, they'd been sitting here, with the king telling him he expected him to behave as a man and apologize to those he'd wronged, and the next moment, the king had been throwing himself between Andric and the wolf. He had no business risking himself for anyone, even less a mere stable boy, but he'd done so, apparently without even thinking about it.

Thoughts of the wolf made him shiver, and he pressed his face into the king's back again at the memory of those wild eyes. He was mostly trying not to think about what would have happened if the wolf had attacked before the king arrived.

He shivered again, told himself it was because he was cold. And it was true. He really hadn't been thinking when he'd left Edoras, or it would have occurred to him that an April night would be much, much colder than an April afternoon was. He'd been fine by the fire, but out here on the plains, racing back toward the dark mass of the city, he was cold.

He wouldn't admit it, though. It was his fault, after all, and a man not only owned up to his mistakes and apologized when he'd wronged others, he accepted the consequences of his actions.

Such as being cold because he'd not thought to bring a warm cloak with him.

While he was looking forward to being warm and fed in the sitting room of the royal apartment, he wasn't looking forward to apologizing to Lisswyn and Brynwyn.

Particularly Brynwyn. How did he explain to her the hurt and despair that had driven him to leave without sounding like a fool? And a petty one at that, who'd resented her getting the pony?

And Lisswyn… He swallowed. There were times, so many of them, when he looked at her, and saw his mother. And wanted nothing more in the world than simply to go to her, and be held the way his mother had held him. To hear her whisper that everything would be fine, that she loved him, that his father and brothers had loved him. But Lisswyn wasn't his mother, and he wasn't a baby to be cuddled in such a way.

They were slowing. Aware that his eyes were wet, he rubbed his face against the king's cloak – no one must know he wept! – and looked around. They were riding through the gates, into Edoras. People were there, watching, and some of them pointed at him. Shame pricked, and he fought the temptation to bury his face again. He deserved their censure.

And then they were in front of Meduseld. Firefoot stopped, and Andric slid off, then looked up. Lisswyn, Brynwyn and Eoden were standing on the porch, watching them.

Or watching him, rather. He'd seen Lisswyn standing in that same spot when the king came home from some patrol, and no matter who rode with him, her eyes were always for the king.

But not this time. This time her eyes were on him. She had one hand pressed against her lips, as if to hold something in, and her expression was the one that always reminded him of his mother. It made his throat ache.

"Go to her." He hadn't noticed the king dismounting, but now realized he was standing behind him, his hands on Andric's shoulders, his voice soft.

Andric ran up the stairs, threw himself at her. Felt her arms wrap tight around him, and heard her voice whispering to him, telling him all would be well, apologizing – what did she have to apologize for?

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." And understood from the kiss she pressed against his hair that she'd already forgiven him.

Slowly, he pulled back. Lisswyn allowed him to go, but reached out with a smile to smooth his hair. "We have a meal for you in our chambers."

He was hungry, he realized. Starved, in fact. But first…he turned to Brynwyn. The little girl was standing next to them, an anxious expression on her face. "Will you let me help you during your riding lesson tomorrow?" he asked.

And in answer, got a beaming smile.

* * *

That night, Lisswyn lay curled on her side in their bed. Eomer was curled behind her, his arm around her, and though she knew he was awake as well, they hadn't really spoken since the boys left to return to the stables and they'd gotten Brynwyn settled in her room.

On a sigh, she rubbed her lower stomach, wished the cramps would ease. As much to take her mind off the monthly discomfort as anything, she finally asked, "What are you thinking about?"

He didn't answer at first, and when he did, his tone was troubled. "I believed Eoden needed me more," he finally answered. "He has always been so obvious in his need for my attention, I figured if Andric needed such from me as well, he would behave similarly. And in thinking that, in waiting for him to let me know what he needed from me, I managed to communicate that he'd somehow failed me."

There was censure in his tone, and Lisswyn shifted onto her back so she could see him in the dim light of the fire. "How could you have known? I've known him all his life, and didn't understand what he was thinking. How could you?"

"I was an orphaned boy in Meduseld, once," he murmured.

"And, in temperament, was more like Eoden, I'm guessing." At his nod, she said, "I thought he was missing his mother more than Eoden was, and I didn't know what to do about that, either."

"We both failed him, then."

"It seems that way. But perhaps that's part of the rearing of children," she said slowly. "Is it possible to make no mistakes at all, do you think?"

"I don't know."

"Did your parents make mistakes?"

He looked up from her, stared broodingly in the direction of the fire. "My mother did, if you count loving my father more than life, so much so that she refused to live without him, even for us. My father, not so much. But he was gone a lot, through no choice of his own."

Unsure of what to day, Lisswyn rolled toward him, rested her head more fully on his shoulder.

"What of your parents?"

"It's similar, actually," she said slowly. "My mother's determination to give my father a son eventually took her from us needlessly."

"What do you mean?"

"My mother kept having stillborn children and miscarriages after I was born, and the healers warned her that she was growing weaker and weaker, and should try to prevent further pregnancies. There's a plant, which when made into a tea sometimes prevents conception, and they recommended she drink it. But she wanted so badly to give my father a son, she refused. The next pregnancy after that was Brynwyn, which took her life."

Eomer frowned. "What did your father say?"

"He begged her drink the tea, insisted he didn't need sons. I believe he would have liked one," she added. "But he did truly love me, and Brynwyn as well."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her hair, then rested his head against hers. "There's to be no repeat of that," he finally said, his voice rough. "If you give me only girls, then the Riddermark will have its first ruling queen."

Moved, she reached up, touched his cheek before settling her head against his shoulder again. "So far, I've not managed either one," she grumbled.

He gave a snort of laughter. "As I said earlier, we'll continue striving toward that goal as soon as your monthly time is past. It's not as if the effort to conceive them is a trial to be endured." Then he sobered. "As to Andric, we'll just view this as another lesson learned."

"Maybe the important thing is what we did tonight," Lisswyn responded slowly, shifting to look at him again. "Did you see the expression on his face when you discussed your forthcoming trip to the herds?"

"I didn't know he could smile like that."

"I realized when he did that I've not seen him smile at all since his mother died."

"Perhaps we're on the right path with him, then."

"Perhaps."

On a sigh, she shifted once again into her original position with her back to him, and still curled in his arms, let sleep take her.


End file.
